


tattoo your name across my heart (so it will remain)

by impertinency



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impertinency/pseuds/impertinency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He enjoys the way Robb’s eyes darken when Jon asks to be tied down, the way it makes Robb more aggressive, more possessive. It makes Jon feel like he truly belongs to someone. Like he truly belongs to Robb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tattoo your name across my heart (so it will remain)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/14808.html?thread=9172696) on asoiafkinkmeme. This is the fastest I've ever written a fic (a few hours!) so please excuse any particularly egregious errors or phrases.
> 
> Title from "Sweet Dreams" by Beyonce.

 

 

The rope is tight around his wrists. It scratches his skin when he tugs on the bindings, and when Jon twists up to look at his bound hands, the skin is already red and raw. It’s a pleasant burn, just the right amount of pain that it’s still pleasurable.

“Tight enough for you, Snow?” Robb asks, smirking as he places a string of open-mouthed kisses along the column of Jon’s throat, teasing the skin there until it’s as red and raw as the skin on Jon’s wrists. When Jon doesn’t answer, Robb scrapes his teeth over Jon’s jaw, grins when it makes Jon squirm and arch up into Robb with a groan. 

“Stop teasing, Stark,” he says.

Robb hovers over him, his arms bracketing Jon’s head as he looks down at him with fond exasperation. “I’ll do whatever I want tonight,” he says, and there’s a sliver of arrogance in his tone that makes Jon half annoyed, half aroused. “ _You’re_ the one who wanted to be tied down.”

Jon rolls his eyes, and it causes Robb to release an amused huff of laughter before he leans down to kiss him, wet and messy and rough. Jon momentarily wishes his hands were free so he could pull Robb closer. But he enjoys the struggle, enjoys the torture of not being able to caress Robb’s skin, to run his hands through Robb’s curls, to drag his fingers across the muscles of Robb’s back. Enjoys the way Robb’s eyes darken when Jon asks to be tied down, the way it makes Robb more aggressive, more possessive. It makes Jon feel like he truly belongs to someone. Like he truly belongs to Robb.

Jon would never admit it out loud, but he enjoys Robb’s possessive streak. He’s no longer ashamed of the thrill that runs through him when Robb treats him a little rougher, a little fiercer. When Robb snaps at Theon for making a jape or unknowingly scowls at the girls who flirt with him in the kitchen or courtyard. He looks forward to the nights when Robb agrees to tie him to the bed, when he litters Jon’s body with bruises and scratches and rope burns.

Jon had known that today would be one of those nights, had known from the moment he was told he wasn’t allowed to sit with his siblings at the feast for the king. He’d left the room as soon as he was done eating, had sulked about in the armory until Robb had come to find him. Robb had all but dragged Jon to his chambers and thrown him down on the bed without a word, his hands shaking as he tied Jon’s wrists and ankles to the bed posts. Robb has been unusually forceful tonight, and there’s an urgency to Robb’s actions that is no doubt brought on by the realization that Jon is leaving in a few days. That in less than a week there will be miles between them. It’s why the knots in the rope are tighter than usual, why the rope stings and burns and digs into his skin whenever Jon attempts to move his arms. He knows that any marks left behind will take days to fade and he wonders if it’s Robb’s way of marking him, his way of giving Jon something he can take with him to the Wall. 

Jon doesn’t mind, and despite his restrained hands, he does his best to place his own marks on Robb. He kisses Robb until his lips are swollen and pink, bites down on his jaw and neck and collarbone. If his hands were free, he’d rake them down Robb’s back until his pale skin was welted and tender, until he had marks that he’d feel even through his clothes, bruises that would make him think of Jon for weeks after.

Robb seems to have a similar intent, and he nips at Jon’s lower lip, bites down until it bleeds, and then licks away the small spots of blood that appear. It makes Jon’s cock harden, makes him moan and twist in his bonds, strain to push his body closer to Robb’s. Robb just chuckles and slides his hands over Jon’s shoulders and chest, pushes him back against the bed with a firm shake of his head. 

Robb kisses a trail down Jon’s chest, sucks a mark onto one hip, then moves to place a matching one on the opposite hip. Jon holds back a whimper when Robb noses at his thigh, when his cheek brushes against Jon’s erection. Robb licks one long stripe up Jon’s cock, slides his tongue over the slit, before he’s moving back to sit on his heels, grinning at Jon’s utter look of surprise.

“ _Robb_.” It’s the closest he’ll come to begging, to admitting that he’s completely at Robb’s mercy.

Robb shifts so that he’s straddling Jon’s thighs, and he places one hand on either of Jon’s hips. He presses his fingers against the bruises there until Jon hisses with both pleasure and pain. 

“My rules tonight, Snow.”

Jon sighs, drops his head back against the furs with a scowl. His cock is heavy and hard against his stomach, precome already beading at the head. Robb swipes a finger across it almost lazily, rubbing his fingers together as he leaves the bed to stumble over to the table near the door. Jon cranes his head to look after him, takes a second to appreciate the sight of Robb’s bare ass as he bends to shuffle through the jars and bottles. He finally locates the jar of oil and rolls it in his hand as he makes his way back over, smirking at Jon.

He takes a moment to check the tightness of the rope, runs his fingers along the already sensitive skin of Jon’s wrist. He scratches his nails across Jon’s skin, glides his fingers down along the tendons in his arm. 

“I like when you’re all tied up for me.” His hands linger on Jon's wrists, his fingers curling around the rough rope binding him to the bed. His gaze skips between Jon's bound ankles and wrists to his needy cock, a flush of arousal on his face. Robb's own cock is thick and full against his stomach, and Jon unconsciously jerks forward at the sight, wants to wrap his lips around it and suck Robb off until he can't say anything but Jon's name.

Robb grins down at him, gently runs a hand through Jon’s hair and pushes his curls off his forehead. Jon leans into the touch, and he releases an embarrassingly loud moan when Robb cards a hand through his hair and tugs, when he winds a hand around Jon’s neck and roughly draws him up for a kiss.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he murmurs, and both his tone and the words are at odds with his rough treatment tonight. He laughs when he pulls away and Jon attempts to follow him, slaps at Jon’s cheek lightly before he climbs back onto the bed with a grace that Jon envies.

Robb stares at Jon with a ridiculously suggestive look as he uncorks the bottle of oil with one hand, tossing the cork to the floor carelessly.

“I want you to watch me,” he says as he dips two fingers into the oil.

Jon lifts his head, and the action hurts the muscles in his neck, makes the muscles in his arms stretch and strain even more. “Robb, what---?”

“Quiet,” Robb admonishes. He leans forward then, placing one hand on Jon’s shoulder as he lifts himself up onto his knees. His eyes flutter shut when he reaches around to work himself open, and Robb bites down on his lip in concentration, releasing the most delicious grunts and sighs as he fucks himself on his own fingers. He digs his fingernails deeper into the skin of Jon’s shoulder with each thrust, pressing down so hard that Jon can already feel the blood welling.

It’s torture to watch his brother fuck himself while Jon’s unable to help, unable to even touch him. He pulls at his bonds, tugs against the rope tying his ankles and wrists to the bed. Jon would give anything to have his hands untied so that he could push Robb down against the furs and fuck him until he’s boneless beneath him. 

Instead, he’s forced to watch as Robb slides a third finger inside himself, as he rocks back onto his hand and lets out a long, low keening breath. Jon should be the one touching him, the one making him moan and fall apart. It's his own choice to be restrained and, like many nights before this one, he wonders why he's so intent on punishing himself (wonders why Robb seems to find it as arousing as Jon does himself). He thinks his reprieve might come - that he'll finally be allowed some semblance of pleasure - when Robb shivers and withdraws his fingers. 

Robb’s hair is sweaty and messy, the damp tendrils sticking to his forehead and his neck. His pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen, his cheeks flushed. He’s the picture of debauchery and it makes Jon moan and pull at the ropes again, whispering Robb’s name like a plea. 

“Soon,” Robb murmurs soothingly. He removes his hand from Jon’s shoulder, leans close to lick at the bloody imprints on his skin. He leaves a quick kiss on his shoulder, then places a longer, more lingering kiss on Jon’s mouth before sitting back on his heels once more.

Robb’s hand is still slick with oil when he wraps it around Jon’s cock, pumping him with a maddeningly slow pace. Jon’s breath hitches when Robb rubs a thumb over the slit, when he puts a little more pressure into his strokes. He groans when Robb moves to fondle his balls, bucks his hips up into Robb’s hand.

“Don’t come yet,” Robb says. His voice is deep and rough and commanding, and it’s almost as arousing as the feel of Robb’s hands on his body. Jon doesn’t normally like being told what to do, has too many issues to list when it comes to authority figures, but he thinks he’d gladly let Robb dictate everything if this was the result. It should bother him that he’s so willing to give complete control over to his brother, that he allows Robb to take him apart and put him back together. 

But he can’t even bring himself to care. Not when Robb’s touch is like fire against his skin, when just the sound of his voice is enough to make Jon’s cock grow heavy with desire.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, Snow,” Robb says. “Promise me.”

Jon nods, too breathless to speak. Robb twists his wrist sharply, makes Jon jerk in surprise against the ropes. Robb’s hand is gone a heartbeat later, but any complaints Jon has die on his tongue when Robb rearranges himself so that he’s on his knees again, lifting himself above Jon. He grips the base of Jon’s cock with one hand, uses the other to steady himself as he slowly pushes down.

It’s hard enough to hold back a moan when his cock nudges against Robb’s entrance, but it’s nearly impossible once his cock is fully inside Robb. Jon does his best to thrust up into Robb once he begins to move, his pace slow as he gets used to the position. Robb’s hands come to rest on Jon’s hips, his fingers rubbing circles over the bruises on Jon’s skin as he rolls his hips, moving in time with Jon’s thrusts. 

Robb’s feet curl and push against the furs with each thrust, the muscles in his thighs straining each time he moves. Robb looks gorgeous like this, sweaty and panting and wanton as he rides Jon. Jon wants nothing more than to lick the sweat from his skin, to bite down on the curve of his neck, to bring him off with his hand. He may have promised Robb that he belongs entirely to him, but Robb belongs just as much to Jon in this moment. _No one else gets to have him like this_ , he thinks deliriously. 

Jon has been on the brink of orgasm for awhile now, and he moans low and deep, his hands clenching against his bonds. He feels one of his fingernails begin to bleed as he scratches at the ropes, as he pulls against them as he nears his release. 

“No, Jon. Not yet,” Robb pants, grinding down against Jon as his eyes flick to Jon’s bound wrists. He twists his hips again, silently urging Jon to match his pace.

“Robb, please, I can’t,” Jon says, and he hates that Robb’s the only one who has ever been able to make him beg, the only one who has ever made him fall apart like this. “Let me touch you.”

Robb shakes his head, bites down on his lower lip again as he reaches for his cock. He strokes himself roughly, runs a finger along the shaft and flicks a thumb over the head until it makes him cry out in pleasure. Jon drives his hips up, moans when Robb meets his increased pace. Jon can tell that Robb is close, can tell by the tautness of body, the way his hand trembles the closer he comes to his release.

“I could keep you like this,” Robb says. There’s an uneven, husky quality to his voice that makes Jon’s cock twitch, makes him thrust up into Robb even harder. “I’ll keep you bound to my bed so you can never leave for the Wall. So I’m the only one who ever gets to have you.”

“Yes,” Jon gasps. “Seven hells, Robb. _Yes_.”

The idea of staying here with Robb is too tempting, too dangerous. Jon moans at the very thought of it, closes his eyes as his orgasm builds and he comes, his thrusts edging off as he spills inside of Robb. He opens his eyes just in time to see Robb throw his head back, his body shuddering as his seed spurts onto his stomach, Jon’s name nothing more than a whisper on his lips. 

He stays there for a second, resting his hands on Jon’s stomach before he slides off Jon with a small wince. But then he’s crawling on top of him, winding an arm around Jon’s chest as he buries his head in the crook of Jon’s neck.

“I _should_ keep you like this,” he murmurs, holding Jon close. “Someone needs to stop you from always running away.”

Jon swallows the rebuke on his tongue, and instead nudges Robb until he gets up to undo the rope around Jon’s wrists and ankles. Jon’s skin is a bright, tender red when the ropes finally fall away. His ankles are better off than his wrists, which are a mottled mess of bruises and scrapes and blood. 

Robb grimaces as he fetches the jar of salve from the table. “You should have told me it was this bad.”

Jon shrugs, curses when Robb dabs a bit of the ointment on his left ankle. “I don’t mind.”

Robb’s frown deepens, but his hands remain gentle as he spreads the thick paste over Jon’s skin. He takes both of Jon’s hands between his own and places a gentle kiss on each wrist before he rubs the salve over the rope burns. After he’s done, he pulls Jon down on top of him, drapes his arms around him until their limbs are tangled together. 

“I’ll leave a hundred bruises on your body so you can remember me at the Wall,” he says. He rests his chin on top of Jon’s head, strokes a hand up the curve of Jon’s spine. “Don’t want you to forget me.”

Jon doesn’t think he could ever forget Robb, but he doesn’t complain when Robb keeps true to his word. He seeks Jon out every day until he leaves, even takes him against the door of his chambers the morning he’s set to ride off. 

And when Jon arrives at the Wall a week later, his wrists are still red and raw. He traces the marks, and swears he can almost feel the ghost of Robb’s hands on his skin again.


End file.
